


touch my soul and i'll touch yours

by chemicalroses



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Cuddling, Death, Death Star, Deathstar, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kidstar, M/M, Torture, black star almost dies and kid breaks down, black star is a fucking idiot, kid always hides his emotions, olivia don't judge me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemicalroses/pseuds/chemicalroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>.</p><p>"Your heart was in your hands, Black Star."</p><p>[In which Black Star is hurt and Kid nearly cries]</p>
            </blockquote>





	touch my soul and i'll touch yours

**Author's Note:**

> Death Star deserves more love.

_“Promise me you’ll come back,”_

The words played over again in the assassins mind as he tried to focus on the reaper who had said them; it was hard because he couldn’t think straight and was panting, gushing blood all over the white tile floor. On his knees in front of the living deity, he tried to apologize for the mess and keep himself all in one piece, but the wounds were too deep and the air was too thin, so thin that he couldn’t feel it as he inhaled. Had his lungs ever burned this much before?

“K-Kid, I—“

“What did you _do_ , Black Star?” Kid’s voice was shaking and his fists were clenched tight against his sides, and all that Black Star could think was _here it comes, he’s angry about the floor, he’s going to have me clean everything_ ; but the Shinigami barely noticed the blood. Instead, Kid was supporting him—the expensive fabric covering his kneecaps acting as a sponge for the red liquid. Black Star would’ve smiled if he had control over his body, which was keeled over on its knees, hands clutching the important organs so they wouldn’t spill onto the floor.

“I’m back,” He managed to wheeze before letting out a strained groan and heaving whatever was left in his stomach all over Kid’s chest.

The reaper didn’t seem bothered by it—it was as if his first priority was to heal the blue haired boy, the one who headed his request and was now literally holding himself together because of it.

The procedure was long and painful for both of them, because Black Star refused to take antibiotics at first and Kid refused to leave the surgery until it was over and done with.

(“ _I am a god_ ,” Black Star ripped out a scream when the professor tried to shove the pills down his bloody throat, “ _God’s don’t need—_ ” He was silenced by a needle stabbing into his forearm, and fell asleep not even two seconds after the syringe was emptied.)

Kid had never felt nauseous before, not until he witnessed the professor removing and replacing the boy’s organs, hands dripping with a gracious amount of blood—the same blood that trailed throughout the hallway and splattered against the walls. Only then did the reapers stomach twist.

Gold eyes devoured the scene: body parts shoved into glass jars and red smiles sliced into still warm skin, disgorging over the table and pretty face he had come to know.

 _This isn’t Black Star_ , Kid told himself, grinding his teeth together, _because he’s life and strength and belongs in the world, not taped together in a bed he might never get out of._

It wasn’t until _that_ moment, when the sickening sound of a flat line wailed through the silence, did the reaper realize how true his thoughts actually were.

At first all Kid could do was stand there and watch those beautiful eyes grow cold; watch the rise and fall of the boy’s torn up chest turn from unsteady to nonexistent. He couldn’t comprehend it, not until he felt warmth in the palm of his hand and realized that it was a shaking blue light—trying to be accepted by death, to be accepted by _Kid_ , which meant an eternity apart from this life. An eternity away from this broken body. An eternity away from everything the meister had worked for over all of these years.

Black Star would never let himself die this way.

_Black Star would never forgive Kid if he let him die this way._

Those words looped in his mind as the reaper seized the trembling soul in both hands and rushed blindly towards the lifeless body, past Stein and through the blood, not caring about the messy trail he left behind. Lidded eyes peeled open and full sanzu lines glowing against the ebony background, Kid raised his pale hands and then thrust the faint piece of soul into Black Star’s open heart.

Silence drowned out the would-be pleads from the Shinigami, whose eyes refused to blink or focus. Hands were stained and shaking against the angry skin as the desperate voices inside of Kid’s head rioted and screamed that _you have to come back, you have to pull through you can’t leave, you can’t, just open your eyes open your eyes open them please please please please—_

_“You have to come back to me,”_

The ugly flat line on the heart monitor spiked along with the pulses of everyone else in the room, including the fallen assassin; back from the dead and clutching the soul to his body with everything he had.

Kid froze, because one part of himself was not fully aware of what was going on and the other was so paralyzed with shock that he couldn’t even breathe. He didn’t even think about how his clothes were ruined when he collapsed into the blood pooling beneath the table.

In fact, the only thing he cared about in that moment was how beautiful Black Star’s manic breathing sounded against the pulsing monitor.

Gold eyes rolled back in relief.

.

It took a week before Black Star was cleared for visitors. He wasn’t physically able to complain about it, and that was probably a good thing; if he was, the hospital room would be a lot louder than usual. The nurse would also be less tolerant, because Black Star had a lot to complain about.

He was in pain all day, every day. His brain went into hyper drive at night, which meant no sleep. He wasn’t strong enough to hold a spoon, let alone stand or start training again, which made him feel like a useless lump.

He was going crazy.

The ban of visitors made the whole thing even worse. He knew that everyone wanted to see him, Soul would punch him across the face for nearly dying and Tsubaki would cry into his shoulder for a good hour or so.

(The shadow weapon didn’t want to let him go on a mission by himself, especially when it involved more than one target, but Black Star refused to stay home alone while she visited her family, claiming that “ _he could handle it_ ” and that she “ _didn’t think he was strong enough_ ”. It didn’t take a lot for Black Star to feel guilty after realizing where his pleading got him.)

Despite how good it felt to be with his friends, the one person Black Star wanted, _needed_ , to see more than anyone, didn’t visit him. Every day he expected him to walk through the doors and give a lecture about how reckless he was, how he had to be careful, _blah blah blah_. But he never came, and Black Star found himself _wishing_ for a lecture instead of the pain-filled silence he was forced to sit through hour after hour.

The only thing keeping him from going insane was the idea of seeing his savior ( _cringe_ ) walking through the door. It took a while (a week, three days, two hours and five minutes, _but_ _hey_ , who the fuck was counting) before he finally showed.

He didn’t notice the company at first, and no one could blame him; Kid blended in well with the shadows. Once he realized he wasn’t alone, it didn’t take a lot for Black Star to guess who the gold eyes belonged to.

“’Thought you weren’t coming,”

Black Star grimaced when his voice inevitably cracked. He sounded helpless, _weak_ , everything he didn’t want to be. Kid always saw him at his worst, and this time was no different. He would give anything, he thought, for their roles to be reversed.

“You thought wrong.” Kid’s voice was soft and gentle, and Black Star wanted to puke. Since when had Kid ever gone easy on him? Where was the judgment?

“Why didn’t you come sooner?”

“Why didn’t you come back in one piece?”

Black Star fiddled with the IV still stuck in his arm and winced at the sudden change in Kid’s tone. It wasn’t cold or sophisticated, like normal; it was weaker, more emotional—like he was holding back tears. Black Star brushed that idea aside as fast as it came, because he had never once seen Kid cry. _Ever_.

“I beat them,” He countered, defensive, “Every last one.”

“You died,” Kid took a step forwards and Black Star’s eyes widened when he could see the boy’s expression. It was different than anything he had ever seen before.

“Sorry,” He whispered.

“You _died_ ,” Kid repeated, moving towards the cot at a steady pace, “I killed you,”

“What?” Black Star blinked, “You didn’t kill me, Kid, I’m right here,”

The reaper took a seat near the foot of the bed, being careful not to move any equipment or jostle the crippled boy’s position.

“I felt your soul, it was begging,” He choked on his words, “It was begging for me to take you,”

Black Star grimaced when he realized how pathetic he must’ve looked, weak and bloody and desperate to escape. Even though he didn’t have a clear view of the Shinigami’s face, it was obvious he was also upset just from thinking about it.

 “I nearly did it,” Kid continued, looking up, “I was so close to ending it. You were so tempting,”

“I wouldn’t have let myself be taken by y—“

“It was inevitable, Black star,” His breathing grew uneven as his hands clutched the bed sheets underneath him. “It would’ve been my fault,”

The assassin didn’t respond; he only stared at the god in front of him—vulnerable and shuddering in the moonlight.

 “But I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

The reapers body shook at the mention of his former words. It was a sensitive topic—hell, at the moment _everything_ was a sensitive topic—but based on Kid’s reaction and the way his own heart ached, Black Star knew it was stupid to ignore. His head throbbed as he continued.

“I told you I’d come back, and I did. It’s simple,”

“ _Simple?_ ” Kid’s hands were twisting around each other nervously, his eyes wide and unblinking, “It’s not simple. You told me you’d come back. You told me you’d be careful. You told me you’d come home _safely_ ; _not_ holding your intestines in with your hands, or bleeding everywhere, or asking me to kill you,”

Upon the others stunned silence, Kid moved in closer, so that Black Star could _see_ how serious he was.

“Do you think this is some joke?” He whispered harshly, “Did you know you were going to die? Is this… Is this just a _challenge_ for you? To try and surpass death?”

Black Star opened his mouth to argue, but Kid wasn’t having it. He grasped the assassin’s wrist; the one with the IV connected to it, and shoved his thumb in between the veins. An unsteady pulse throbbed through the thick skin.

“Do you feel that?” Black Star winced as Kid shook his arm with a killer grip, “That means you’re _alive_. Are you happy now? Was it worth it, to escape death? I bet it was fun for you, right? Just another game,”

He released his arm, which fell back against the mattress with a light _thump_ against Black Star’s side. The blue haired boy was gaping at the other, who looked like he was going through a psychotic breakdown.

“It wasn’t a game,” Black Star finally managed to say, “They drugged me, Kid; to the point where I could barely move. They beat me to a fucking bloody pulp, yeah, but it wasn’t intentional on my part. As soon as I felt like myself again I killed them all and hauled myself back here. I didn’t try to die on _purpose_ ,”

Kid’s gaze dropped as he absorbed the story.

 “How,” He finally said, “How could you even come back here in that condition? Your heart was in your _hands_ , Black Star.”

The other didn’t say anything for a while, but eventually, a familiar grin spread across his scarred face. Kid’s breath hitched in his chest as he felt the warmth of a calloused hand covering his own.

“I promised I'd come back to you. So I did.”

A pale fist clenched under the gentle touch.

“I could’ve killed you,” Kid shivered, “I was _going_ to kill you.”

Black Star tightened the grip on his hand and used his other arm to press the reaper’s head to his chest. It was _his_ turn to comfort Kid. It was _Kid’s_ turn to break down. And it was about fucking time, too.

“Do you hear that?” He breathed, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm as he repeated the Shinigami’s words, “It means I’m _alive_ ,”

The steady pulsations of Black Star’s heart against Kid’s ear made the Shinigami relax against him. His hand twisted around and pale fingers intertwined with tan ones.

“Thank you,” He whispered, “Thank you for coming home,”

Black Star smiled softly against Kid’s hair. The boy was fragile now, _delicate_ , and seeing this rare side of Kid made the star forget how they even ended up like this—curled into one another and pretending it wasn’t totally weird. Honestly, the weirdest part about it was now not-weird it felt.

Black Star couldn’t help but wonder if lying with Soul would feel the same way. He had no evidence to make a decent comparison, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on gaining any. Being with Kid was enough. _Kid_ was the one who made his stomach flip. _Kid’s_ hand was the one he could hold forever.

 _He’s a god that I need to surpass,_ Black Star told himself, _and that’s admiration._

He debated about the meaning of admiration for a while after that; about whether or not it was why he suddenly wanted to kiss the white stripes embellishing the dark hair, or why even after being tortured and beaten for days the only thing he could think of was Kid’s words echoing over and over again in his head. He never came up with a decent answer.

To Black Star, in the end, none of the details mattered. Not yet, anyway.

“Thank you for waiting,”


End file.
